


Choices at Short Notice

by RosiePaw



Category: Temeraire - Novik
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-31
Updated: 2009-12-31
Packaged: 2017-10-05 13:27:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/42215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosiePaw/pseuds/RosiePaw





	Choices at Short Notice

Temeraire was suspicious. "I do not see why any of my crew should attend."

Laurence was patient. "Temeraire, it is a historic event, the first time a dragon egg has hatched here in New South Wales. All of the aviators will be attending, to mark its importance."

Temeraire snorted. "I do not think it so important. The egg is only a courier-weight. And I do not think much of Dayes as a captain, even for a courier."

On this point Laurence did not disagree with his dragon. It had been an unpleasant shock to see Dayes come aboard at Gibraltar. Of the other two captains Jane Roland had sent, Richard Clark, now somewhat recovered from Victoriatus’ death, had greeted Laurence with real warmth, while Samuel Jerrolds had seemed at least willing to tolerate his company.

Dayes, on the other hand, was still obviously bitter over his failure to replace Laurence as Temeraire’s captain three years before. His bitterness was all the deeper because he had finally been forced to admit that the only means by which he would ever gain a dragon of his own was to accept transfer to Australia. Even in Australia, as the least senior of the captains being sent, he was slated to harness the hatchling from the smallest egg, an unplanned cross between a Parnassian and a Chequered Nettle.

Dayes made no secret of the fact that he despised Laurence as a traitor, nor of his opinion that if Temeraire had accepted a _proper_ aviator as a captain – Dayes himself, for example – the Celestial would still be serving complaisantly against Napoleon’s troops in Europe instead of having to be exiled to Australia. The situation was complicated even more by Dayes’ jealousy of the friendship between Laurence and Granby, Dayes’ former crewmate aboard Laetificat. When Dayes realized Granby would not take his part against Laurence, his initial pleased surprise at finding Granby on board the _Allegiance_ had turned to destructive scorn. Another aviator, Dayes hinted, would have been able to better manage willful Iskierka. Another aviator would have been able to keep the fire-breather in Britain, for use against the French.

Granby did not argue. Granby had in fact already reached both these conclusions on his own. And, as he had been doing more and more frequently, Granby turned to liquor to numb his sorrow and his shame. Only after a near-fatal accident on-board had Laurence and Tharkay been able to make Granby – and more to the point, Iskierka – see that he could not continue down this path without harm to himself.

"If _I_ had been given Dayes for a captain" – Temeraire’s resonant voice startled Laurence from his own thoughts – "I would have left him in a watering trough. And I do not think it fair that any other dragon should be asked to take him on."

"But consider," interjected Granby, "that the dragonet can not be forced to accept him. Indeed, it is hard even to lay hands on a courier-weight hatchling who does not want to be harnessed. Remember – what was his name? – Moncey? From your unharnessed regiment? The hatchling may choose to reject Dayes entirely. That seems fair enough."

"Is it?" asked Tharkay coolly. "Is it indeed fair to ask a new-hatched creature with no knowledge of others of its own kind, let alone of men, to make a choice that will determine the course of its entire life?"

"What would you instead?" retorted Granby. "You know how badly Britain needs its dragons. How else should they be brought to accept service with us, except through bonds of affection?"

"Through just treatment, perhaps? Through fair means of recompense, such as Arkady negotiated with Admiral Roland?"

"And how long would the ferals fight for Britain if there were no longer means to feed them?"

"How long would the troops of Britain’s armies fight if they no longer received either rations or pay?"

"They were not receiving pay when we left Britain," Temeraire pointed out, "Neither the human troops nor the dragons. Wellesley – or Wellington, or however he is called now – said it would be half a year before the government could settle all its debts. That is why I told…" He broke off and would not quite meet Laurence’s eyes.

It was Iskierka who put in, "I think it silly of Ballista and Majestatis and the others to be willing to wait that long before refusing to follow any more stupid orders, not when they might be out winning capital of their own all this while."

"Lord," said Granby, as Tharkay laughed quietly, not unkindly. Laurence kept silent. He knew Granby’s arguments. He might have agreed with them, at one time. But the British government had made it baldly plain that it considered his own life as no more than a lure to coerce Temeraire’s cooperation, first to accept imprisonment at Pen Y Fan, then to return to active service when Napoleon invaded, now to accept exile in New South Wales. Highly intelligent, inquisitive, eager for new ideas – if there were any _rational_ reason for dragons to accept service with Britain, it should have been possible to bring Temeraire, of all dragons, to see it. That this had not been possible lay heavy on Laurence’s conscience. Temeraire’s affection for him, however strongly returned, was a chain that bound the dragon to Britain when Laurence knew well he had rather be with his kin in China.

"And what if the hatchling _does_ reject Dayes?" asked Temeraire. "That is precisely why I do not want my crew attending. I have already lost Hollins to Elsie and Granby to Iskierka – no, do not snort at me, Iskierka, wait until _you_ lose one of _your_ crew and we will see how you like it!"

Tharkay eyed Temeraire. "I see you are not motivated so much by concern for the hatchling’s welfare or rights as by your own greed."

Laurence was inclined to agree, but Temeraire looked so abashed that he felt compelled to come to his dragon’s assistance. "You know that Emily Roland is already promised to Excidium. Sipho is far too young, and I promise you that I will keep both Demane and Allen away from the hatchling."

"And my ground crew as well. I still remember that you _gave_ Hollins to Elsie."

"Hollins was a young man. Come, would you begrudge him a chance of advancement? Fellowes and Blythe are both older men. I do not think that either of them is interested in turning captain. But yes, I will promise to keep them away from the hatchling as well." Smiling, Laurence stroked his dragon’s foreleg, and after a moment, Temeraire leaned down to nuzzle his hair. Iskierka reached out to pull Granby closer to her. Tharkay left them to stroll to the covert walls and look out towards the harbour.

***

The shed was large, hastily and roughly constructed, dim after the brilliant sunlight outdoors, crowded with aviators come to witness the hatching. The egg sat on a cushion in the centre, a small space left around it. At the edge of the space stood Dayes, holding a harness that looked as if it might have been designed for a housecat. He looked pale and tense despite the assurances of the other men around him. Laurence kept his small crew to the back of the crowd, not wanting to intrude, and Granby and Tharkay remained with him.

A crack. The tip of a claw appearing. More cracks, the egg now visibly rocking back and forth, and then a small explosion of bits of shell as the dragonet thrust its way out. It was indeed no larger than the harness suggested, but of unexpectedly fine conformation, with the black and cream hide of its Parnassian sire and, in absurd miniature, the barbed tail of its Chequered Nettle dam. Shining with egg-slime, it fanned its wings as it examined the surrounding aviators. And then, to Laurence’s startlement, it took flight.

Neither Temeraire nor Iskierka had flown immediately on hatching. Laurence had heard that Winchesters did, that this was the very reason for hatching them indoors, but he had not quite expected the suddenness of the launch, nor the little creature’s blurring speed. Flying high along the shed roof, it seemed to be making straight for a wall, turning only at the last minute, a little clumsily. Back across the room, and this time the turn was more assured. More turns, loops, as the dragonet discovered the joy of its native element.

Dayes watched it closely all the while, his tension turning to visible impatience. When the dragonet finally began to show the slightest loss of speed and altitude, he stepped into its path. The dragonet did not stop. At the last moment, Dayes was forced to duck. Unprepared, he went sprawling to the dusty ground. When he stood up again, his face was no longer pale but red.

The dragonet continued its flight, now just above the level of the men’s heads. The aviators ducked, dodged, often directly into each other. Then the dragonet flew straight towards the corner where Laurence stood.

Laurence stepped back. Granby, taller, ducked. And Tharkay, apparently by habit, put up his arm as if providing a perch for an eagle or kestrel he might be training. The dragonet landed, folded its wings. It and Tharkay stared at each other.

The moment was broken when Dayes shoved his way through the crowd, still holding the harness, embarrassed and furious. "Hand over that dragonet!" he snapped.

Tharkay shrugged and moved to comply, but the little creature scampered along his arm, up onto his shoulders and behind his head. "I don’t like that man!" it – no, he – announced, "He scares me!"

Consternation among the aviators. Clark began to push his way to Dayes’ side, but before he could get there, Dayes turned on Laurence. "This is more of your interference, traitor! You brought this Chinaman here, planning to lure yet one more dragon out of useful service to the Corps and into your own circle…"

"Damn your suspicions, Laurence did no such thing," Granby shot back, "And if you don’t control your temper, you’re going to lose your chance."

"Don’t tell me about control, drunkard. You can’t control your own dragon – nor yourself, not without a bottle to help."

Granby flushed and went silent, but Laurence, who might have held his temper through any attack to himself, jumped to his friend’s defense at full voice. "_Captain_ Granby successfully harnessed a Kazilik on a battlefield, under the worst possible conditions. You, sir, can not do so even in a situation where you have every advantage – except your own nature."

Dayes opened his mouth to reply, but whatever he would have said was lost when Tharkay’s voice cut through, quiet and sharp as a knifeblade. "Gentlemen, you are frightening the dragonet."

"And I am hungry, too!" wailed the creature, peering past Tharkay’s ear.

Clark had by now reached Dayes’ side, accompanied by a pair of husky midwingmen. "Mr. Dayes, I am sorry," he said firmly, holding out his hand for the harness. Dayes looked as if he would protest, looked at the two midwingmen, and threw the harness ungraciously to the ground. He stalked out of the shed, the midwingmen following at Clark’s signal. The company drew a collective breath.

"Is there nothing to eat?" asked the dragonet, plaintively.

"Certainly there is," replied Tharkay, "We will bring you something forthwith. But first, these gentlemen _request_ that you choose a companion." His ironic tone was clear enough to draw narrowed glances from several in the crowd.

The dragonet crept out from behind Tharkay’s head, along his shoulder, but when Tharkay made to hand him off to Clark, he clung stubbornly, small talons anchored to Tharkay’s coat. Looking at Tharkay directly, he said firmly, "Very well. I choose you."

One might have heard a pin drop in the shed. "You helped me hide from the angry man. You cared that I was frightened. You promised to bring me food. I choose you."

Tharkay’s air of cool collection suddenly seemed a mask, a falsity, hiding his thoughts all too imperfectly. Laurence, watching him, remembered standing on the deck of the _Reliant_, knowing that his next words could tear his life away from everything familiar, everything that was home, everything he thought he wanted. He had met his moment and come through it only by holding to what he thought to be his duty. What had Tharkay to hold to, a man whose entire character was defined by his independent solitude, by distance preserved even between himself and those who would be his friends?

It was the memory of that moment on the _Reliant_ that moved Laurence to step forward and pick up the harness that Dayes had dropped. He looked at Clark, who nodded, then pressed the harness into Tharkay’s unresisting hand. "Mr. Tharkay, I pray you will make introductions."

A murmuring in the shed. Tharkay himself took a breath, another, and then addressed the dragonet. "My name is Tharkay. This is Laurence, Temeraire’s companion, and the man just behind him, Granby, Iskierka’s companion."

The dragonet looked interested, then worried. Then increasingly worried. Tharkay’s voice was gentle. "If you do not have a name, may I give you one?"

"Oh! Yes, please."

"Will you be called Esshra?"

The dragonet tasted the sibilants on his tongue. "Esshra. Yes, I like that."

"It means ‘flight’ in a language called Durzagh that dragons speak."

"Oh," said Esshra, looking worried again, "But I am a dragon, should I not know that language?"

"If you like, I will teach you. And Temeraire will teach you the sounds in it that I can not make."

"Thank you," said Esshra, rubbing his head against Tharkay’s sleeve, "But first…"

"First you would no doubt like something to eat." Tharkay’s voice was warm with amusement. He glanced down at the harness he held and did not quite grimace. "Esshra, the custom is that before I give you anything to eat, I should put this harness on you, to prevent you from flying away afterwards."

"Why should I do that? You protected me. You gave me a name. You’re going to give me food, and to teach me the dragons’ language. I don’t _want_ to leave you, or for you to leave me."

Tharkay tucked the harness into his pocket and signaled to the ensign who stood by waiting with a bowl of mutton. The flustered boy looked at Clark, who looked at Laurence, who nodded, finding himself unsurprised either by Tharkay’s action or Esshra’s response.

The ensign brought the bowl over. Tharkay selected first one bit of mutton, than another to feed to Esshra with his own hands. When it became apparent that the urgency of Esshra’s appetite was too great for this method to suffice, Tharkay set him down next to the bowl and let him eat his fill. Only after consuming what looked to be half his own weight in mutton did Esshra finally look to be satisfied – and almost immediately, rather sleepy. Once Tharkay had gently wiped his chops and hide clean of bloody bits of mutton, Esshra barely managed to clamber back up Tharkay’s arm to his shoulder, where he curled himself around Tharkay’s neck and promptly fell asleep.

Clark came up to Tharkay and, offering his hand, announced in a carrying voice, "Captain Tharkay, my congratulations." At this the other aviators approached with their own congratulations, before beginning to drift off by two’s and three’s. Murmured conversations suggested that it might take awhile for some of them to fully digest the turn of events.

Tharkay, some of his customary air of cool distance regained, thanked each man civilly. Only when all were gone but himself, Laurence and Granby did he reach up to stroke the sleek head tucked next to his ear. Esshra rumbled in his sleep and curled himself closer.

Laurence realized that the younger members of his crew would already be telling the two waiting adult dragons what had happened, and not necessarily in terms that he himself would have chosen. "I suppose," he said, motioning his friends towards the door, "that now we must explain all this to Temeraire."

"And listen to Iskierka’s jibes as well," added Granby, but he was smiling.

The three captains walked out the shed into the sunlight.


End file.
